A Dance Lesson
by iviscrit
Summary: "Give me your hand." She pushed his shoulders back, and moved his other hand to the small of her back. "See, now we're in hold." He frowned. "Am I getting a dance lesson now?" She made two sharp gestures, turning the metal knob of the radio with her bending, and took his hand again. "Only if you're interested in learning." Junior gets a dance lesson from the pro. Slight Baavira.


_A/N: It was recently brought to my attention that Baatar watching Kuvira dance is already a thing. Here's my spin on it. Enjoy!_

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><p>The train had reached Ba Sing Se by dusk, just outside the parameters of the border. There was a low buzz of activity in the background as the army set up camp for the duration, not far from the train. Stars dotted clear patches of the night sky, and thick, smokey clouds drifted lazily overhead. The moon seemed to hang suspended in the clouds, and its light streamed into the train car through the glass panels. Baatar looked up from the diagram before him, the lamp and the moonlight proving insufficient for him to continue working, and he wiped his ink-stained hands. Kuvira stood facing the window, her back to him and her fingers interlaced behind her. The soft lighting and her silhouette, free of her blocky armor, evoked a sudden memory of her dance recitals. It had been months since he'd seen her dance, and the realization made him curious.<p>

"I have a weird question for you," he said, breaking the silence. When Su had taken Kuvira under her protection, she had been quick to notice the girl's natural ability. Baatar's earliest memories of his mother were of her dancing, whether it was to the radio, with his father, with the children, or even to a melody only she could hear. When she was of a mind to dance, she fairly glided around the room, leaving him to suspect she had wanted a daughter to teach, as he and his brothers had never displayed interest. Kuvira seemed to genuinely enjoy herself on stage, however, and he wondered if her project had made her forget about her first learned art.

"Yes, I sleep with my hair in a bun," she said without turning around. "Sometimes a braid. Long hair is difficult to untangle."

Baatar laughed. "That wasn't what I was going to ask you."

"Oh?" She turned to face him, pulling herself onto the window ledge. "If it's about the treaty I'm not changing it-"

"No, I wanted to ask if you still.." He frowned, unsure how to continue. "Do you still dance?"

She raised an eyebrow. "When did you watch me dance?"

"At my mother's recitals," he said. "Once you were the featured performer," he added. "The last one must've been more than a year ago."

"Ah, I forgot about that," she said, smiling. "I still do, just by myself. It's not practical to have a proper performance right now... I don't have any ambitions of choreographing one until the earth kingdom is one hundred percent reunited."

"I didn't know you choreographed," Baatar said.

"It's no different than bending," she said, hopping down from her perch. "You learn all the moves, and then you throw them out as necessary. If you have a big enough arsenal, you can choreograph a thousand routines." As if to emphasize her point, she executed a spin, a leap, and a battement, elongating the line and smoothly returning to standing. "And then with a little music, you have all the cues you need."

"A bending simile doesn't work as well for a non-bender," Baatar pointed out. "But I understand, I think."

"You can fight hand-to-hand, though," she said. "Or think of it in terms of calculus. If you know the rules of integration, you can solve any-"

"I get it," he said, holding up his hands. "You know, I _am_ capable of understanding similes that aren't math-related."

Kuvira smiled. "It's easy to forget with you, sometimes."

"Was it hard?"

"To learn? No more than anything else," she said. "Su never taught you at all?"

"None of us were interested," Baatar said. "You came to us before she had Opal, so I think she was glad to have another girl around the place."

"So you think it's a girl pursuit?" she said, crossing her arms. "Most of the dancers in Su's troupe could probably take you."

Baatar stood. "Yourself included?"

She narrowed her eyes. "That sounds like a challenge."

He couldn't tell if the gleam in her eye was entirely playful or not, but the vast availability of metal in the room did little to dispel his suspicions. She surprised him by forgoing any bending, instead landing her blows with streamlined limbs and a classical dancer's frame. Baatar stepped back, blocking her next move and catching her around the middle before the next. "What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his neck. "You know, I'm sore enough from hunching over blueprints all day..."

Kuvira swatted his hand away. "Give me your hand." She pushed his shoulders back, and moved his other hand to the small of her back. "See? Now we're in hold."

"Oh." He frowned. "Am I getting a dance lesson now?"

She made two sharp gestures, turning the metal knob of the radio with her bending, and took his hand again. "Only if you're interested in learning."

"I'm a slow learner," he said uncertainly.

"I'm a patient teacher."

"If you have plans of convincing politicians to sign the treaty, you're going to have get better at lying," he said flatly.

She flushed, looking away. "I don't need to be dishonest to get what I want."

It was the first time he'd seen her genuinely flustered, her cheeks pink and her movements fidgety. It was curiously endearing, and he wondered how he had failed to notice the little cracks in her facade over the past fourteen years. "You might be more experienced than me in terms of combat, and _infinitely _more experienced-"

"And coordinated."

"-and coordinated," he conceded, "than me in dance. But I think you'll learn pretty quickly that politics never lives up to your expectations. The more idealistic you are, the more you'll be let down."

She was silent for a few moments, and the low melody from the radio was the only sound in the car. The horns seemed almost melancholy, and Baatar wondered if he'd upset her. "Is this your way of telling me to not expect much of you as a dancer?" she said at last, looking up at him with a wry twist to her mouth.

"No, but now that you mention it, it's applicable," he said thoughtfully.

"Baatar, there's something you should know about me by now," she said, adjusting his hand at her waist and correcting his frame again. "I always get what I want. Now, step left and back."

He complied, eyes on their feet as she guided him through the steps. She narrated the instructions behind each move, pausing at times to correct his posture or chastise a misstep, gradually increasing the speed until they moved in time to the music. Her spins were tight and precise, her arm movements at once sharp and lyrical, and at times it was hard to tell if she was bending or dancing. "How can you talk while..." He trailed off when she frowned, shaking her head.

"Keep your core tight," she said, tapping his abdomen. "And keep your hips tucked, and extend all the way through the arms. You express through the arms and you're completely disconnected-" She demonstrated the move, her back to him and counting under her breath, finishing with a twirl and returning to hold. "Got it?"

"Absolutely not," he said, but it was only in part from his inexperience. Kuvira identified herself as a member of the military, and of late as a world leader, but as he watched her move in time with the music, it was evident that all of her movements were imbued with dance. Her roots were in classical dance, and a host of recollections flashed through his mind as he observed her, the little lesson forgotten. The lines she hit were reminiscent of her metalbending postures, and the way she flowed through each move was reminiscent of the fluidity of her bending. If he were to set her direct combat to music, it would more likely than not look like one of her dance recitals. The only real difference was in her face; rather than a brow furrowed in concentration and a grimly set mouth, her face was open and relaxed. The music seemed to carry her movements and afford them a musicality that extended to her face, and for a moment she was less emotionally guarded.

She stopped too soon, snapping her fingers in front of his eyes. "You're not paying attention."

"I am," Baatar said. "You make it look effortless."

"When you've done it long enough a lot of it becomes second nature," she agreed. "But I take it you really aren't interested in learning, so we can quit if you want."

"Don't stop on my account," he said, holding up his hands and returning to his seat. "I haven't watched you dance since Zao Fu, and I've missed seeing it."

"Well..." The clouds had moved in, and from his chair she appeared a black silhouette against the window. Her steps were slow and deliberate, and she danced a few minutes longer, her movements starting out smooth and undulating and then switching to tight and sharp. She paused, and as she stepped into the light of the desk lamp Baatar could see her familiar expression of self-satisfaction that always followed an exceptional performance. "Considering how little I've practiced lately, I expected to be more rusty," Kuvira confessed, her hands on her hips. "This is a welcome surprise."

"_I'm_ not surprised," he observed. "You never really stopped."

She raised an eyebrow, expression thoughtful. "I suppose I didn't." She bended his seat into a smooth plank of metal, forcing him to stand, and with the music playing in the background the similarities in her bending and dancing were all the more evident. "Try one last time before we call it a night?"

He grimaced. "Fine."

"You have to commit if you're going to go into hold correctly," she said disapprovingly, pulling him closer. "If it feels comfortable then you aren't doing it right."

"Ah." He felt his face heat, and hoped that the dim lighting would obscure it.

She looked at him curiously, her expression perplexed. "What?"

"Nothing. So.. show me again?"

She sighed. "You _are_ a slow learner." And she led him through the dance steps in the darkened car, accompanied by the soft lilting tones of the strings ensemble with the moon as their only audience.

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><p><strong>AN: Some easter eggs in this oneshot: **

**1. There's a lot of speculation that Baatar Sr. is Sokka's son. That theory is one of my headcanons, which makes Junior Sokka's grandson. Suddenly, my deliberate inclusion of the moon as their audience makes more sense, eh? ;) **

**2. If you noticed Kuvira's "I always get what I want" and "I won't rest until the earth kingdom is 100% reunited!" quotes, good job. If not, SHAME ON YOU.**

**3. Their little talk about politics and lying? Yeah that was deliberate.**

**4. Yes, the moves Kuvira demonstrated early in the fic are ballet. From what we saw, it looked like they did some form of ballet or contemporary so.. yeah.**

**I'm not a dancer ****_at all_**** so I hope the dance bits were adequately captured. I tried to convey what my mind's eye saw without getting excessively prose-y. Hope you enjoyed all the same! **


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